


(I Found You) In a Melody

by RubyFiamma



Category: Gangsta. (Manga)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Military, Alternate Universe - Pianist, First Love, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-05
Updated: 2015-09-07
Packaged: 2018-04-19 02:32:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4729418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RubyFiamma/pseuds/RubyFiamma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Galahad Woehor is satisfied with his life, full of friends and family and proud club owner of the successful cocktail lounge, Bastard, until chance happens to bring him someone that makes him feel like there’s always been <i>something</i> missing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chance

**Chance**

* * *

 

The ivory beneath his fingertips is cool and smooth, making the stroking motion of his fingers waltzing across keys as easy of an action as breathing.

Mellow notes flood the lounge as the cello kicks in, and Galahad’s eyes slide shut so he can tune into the music; the slow rattle of the snare or the bass drum kicking in at the perfect intervals, the taper of the cymbals and the resonating pluck of the cello strings. The sharps are chiming off the airwaves like dewdrops and finally the soft-silk flow of the lounge singer’s voice is the finishing touch to round off the harmony.

Everything is coming together in perfect harmony and soon the lounge transforms into the embodiment of tranquility, and Galahad can’t help but gently sway to the music as he’s taken to another place far away from this world. 

There’s a break for the singer, solos for the instrumental and Galahad plays his with soul, not a single thought seeping into the action,  just feeling. There’s a lot of that he seems to have to give, and what better way than to pour it out into sound, into music that moves people to tears or gets them dancing across the dance floor, that gets _them_ feeling.

The set is almost coming to an end and Galahad opens his eyes to survey the club. The recessed lounge holds tables and booths crammed with people, and the dance floor below is scattered with couples slow dancing to the melody. They’re almost to capacity tonight, odd for a Wednesday night but something about the balmy night heat of Ergastulum that’s brought people filtering in through all hours of the evening. Galahad loves it; the diverse sea of beautiful people that come to get away from the outside world too give him comfort, each and every one of them feel like family and when he thinks of it that way, his chest swells with emotion, balloons pride and satisfaction under his ribs and joy rides out on every exhale.

Out of his peripheral, Galahad sees the doors to the club open and three people step in. It isn’t odd to have visitors this late, and if they’ve gotten past the bouncers than they’ve paid their cover charge. A spark of red catches Galahad’s eye and he turns, his fingers still moving memory over the keys, and the first thing he notices is a curvy woman with flowing red hair and beautiful figure. She’s wearing a slinky black dress that the light shimmers off of, and it wraps tight around her hips. Galahad’s eyes follow the shadows that curl around her curves to her voluptuous bust, and he almost sinks too heavy on a note but as she moves further into the dark of the club, he’s able to redeem himself with a short tap to middle C and then to G sharp and luckily no one is the wiser. 

He doesn’t take his eyes off the door, the woman is followed by what look like two men; one thick and stocky who looks completely uninterested to be here. The other is tall and lanky, covered in a brown trench coat that seems two sizes too big for him and Galahad notices the man’s pushed the wire framed glasses he wears up the bridge of his nose at least four times already. Galahad watches as the move towards the high tables by the bar and he turns back to his music, immersing himself in melody until the next figure walks through the doors. Galahad can’t see his face at first but there again, the man seems to be looking for someone – perhaps the group that had come in just seconds before him. He strolls further into the club until he stops on the platform under the stage lights and he’s bathed in a soft glow of purple.

It’s strange how some moments work, how some moments can have such a wonder that they permanently etch themselves into the brain, how they stand out from all the other memories the mind retains. For Galahad, he knows, right now is one of those moments. He isn’t sure what causes the slip of his fingers from the keys, the way they hover over the piano ivory in suspended animation and all other motion seems to stand still until there’s no other noise, not even a breath, to add to the profound silence. There’s no explanation for his fascination, but something about the man under the spotlight brings time to a stop, and the edges of Galahad’s vision fray gray at the edges until there’s only the other illuminated in his focal point. He turns, gold shaggy-cropped hair sweeping his forehead with the movement and Galahad doesn’t understand how, but even from this distance he can see the other’s eyes, shining sapphire brimmed with amethyst under the purple radiance of the lights above. Galahad can feel his breath stick heavy to his ribs, his skin prickling with intrigue as the man’s eyes catch his and linger for seconds stretched eternal until Galahad’s certain the man will look away, but the other remains still and staring, as does he.

“– Manager! Gal-san! –" 

The moment is shattered by the sharp hiss of their lounge singer, and Galahad’s attention is diverted, he’s looking up at their singer who’s striking ocean-blue eyes are wide in bemusement. 

“M-mangaer – the music!” she stammers, pointing to his piano. Galahad’s fingers have stopped moving across the keys, and with that the drummer and cello player have also stopped, and everyone is staring at him expectantly. 

“Sorry, Alex!” he beams, recovering with a short scale. He pushes out from the piano, and Alex is still looking at him with her mouth quirked to the side in confusion. “Let’s spice things up tonight with a little jazz! Christoph, take over the keys for me. I’m going for a smoke.”

“But… Gal-san – are you okay?” Alex whispers, turning away from the mic so it doesn’t catch their conversation. 

“I’m great, Alex!” he exclaims, perhaps a little more enthusiastically than intended as he claps a large hand heavy on the singer’s bare and bony shoulder. She winces under the touch, Galahad gives her an apologetic smile and he can still feel the heat of eyes on him as he exits the stage. Under any other circumstance, maybe Galahad would be embarrassed for messing up, but he’s still riding on the high of seeing the most etheral being he’s ever laid eyes on and he’s got no idea why. 

When he gets to the bar he looks for the blond again, hidden by the large chandelier glass rack overhead. He sees him sitting with the three that entered the club earlier, and when Galahad studies their faces closer, he realises he recognises the two men that came in with the woman. They’re regulars at the club, the tall man with glasses rarely drinks and the other with the constant disinterest scribbled across his features drinks whiskey straight on the rocks, and often sits in the stage area. Tonight they’re sitting at the hightop bar tables, one of the tables located further back into the club hidden under shadow and the blonde’s back is turned so Galahad can only follow the breadth of the other’s shoulders each time he moves. 

“Delico – pour me a drink, will you?“ 

His bartender looks up at him through pale hair and nods, reaches for the cinnamon flavoured bourbon on the display shelf. “Yes, sir.”

The dark amber liquid rolls over the three cubes of ice Delico had placed in the tumbler, and when he hands the glass to Galahad it’s with a questionable look and, “Is everything alright, sir? You don’t usually drink on a Wednesday.”

Galahad tosses back the alcohol, the cinnamon flaring heat across his tongue and the liquid scorching his throat and blossoming warmth across his chest as it filters down. When he hands the glass back to Delico for another, he laughs heartily and chances another glance over at the table where the blond sits.

He’s looking over at the bar this time, and Galahad feels heat strike his cheeks that he’s quick to pass off as the flush of alcohol and _not_ because he’s confronted with the bewitching blue eyes of the other. He flashes a grin and he’s rewarded with a smile so soft it makes Galahad’s heart stutter.

“Liquid courage, my boy,” he tells Delico when he’s handed the drink. “Liquid courage.”


	2. Fools

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [tumblr](http://delicotwilight.tumblr.com/post/128364419453/i-found-you-in-a-melody) || [art](http://artbyabbybabbles.tumblr.com/post/128585076506/for-delicotwilight-and-the-lovely-galahau-story#notes)

**Fools**

* * *

 

It’s not unusual for Galahad to favour his patrons, particularly tables of beautiful, single women. If anything he makes too much of a habit of it, to the point that his assistant manager, Marco, is always lecturing him on how to be frugal in owning a business.

The club was left to him by his late friend, Luca Cristiano, who was more of a brother to him than anything. And while Galahad knows Bastard isn’t anywhere near the red and far from going under, Marco likes to remind him that it’s his responsibility to take care of the place and essentially that means not wasting money and alcohol on pretty women to impress them.

However, Galahad is willing to make an exception, it’s easier to defy Marco when the other isn’t here and this will be the third round of drinks he’s sent over to the blond’s table on the house.

“You’re sure Adriano-san won’t scold you in the morning, sir?” Delico asks, using a bar towel to wipe a spill at the corner of the bar.

“What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” Galahad laughs, watches as the waiter hands the table their drinks. The man with the glasses is drinking tonic water with a twist of lemon, the buff one is drinking domestic beer faster than Galahad can put out the rounds; the man’s had two for every one drink his companions have had. The redhead is drinking house wine; she’s a slow drinker and has been nursing the same glass since she arrived. The blond is drinking double rye and cola on the rocks, he’s about par in alcoholic content intake as the his beer drinking friend.

He turns to the stage, watches as Alex sways to the twang of the guitar in her flowing gold-sequined dress with her silky black hair curling around her shoulders and he sighs contentment. He knew she’d be perfect for the job when he hired her, knew she’d fit right in like this is where she belongs. Her smile is soft, lips coated in a shimmering gloss; her eyes shut to the melody and Galahad can see the shadows her long lashes cast over her cheeks, she looks like the epitome of everything heavenly.

“ _Wise men say… only fools rush in…_ ”

Above her hangs the gold-gilded framed painting of Bastard’s only other lounge singer; Luca’s wife. She died during childbirth and Luca never hired anyone else. Galahad knew it was because the man felt like he’d be replacing her; he’d want to look up at that empty stage and still see the ghost of her imprinted on the space – but hiring Alex just felt right, and now when Galahad looks up at the stage he sees the chrome plated mic shared by the presence of two beautiful and talented women instead of one.

“ _Shall I stay, would it… be a sin…_ ”

“A man from table eight is on his way over, sir.”

Galahad’s stomach swoops like the world lost all gravity and he can’t seem to twist his body away from Alex and the stage. He almost wants to tell Delico to handle it, he’s unsure of why he feels so nervous and jittery, why there is tension drawing in his shoulders and why his pulse is racing like it’s got something to prove. He hasn’t been feeling like himself since the blond walked into the club – but this is ridiculous, he’s in the company of beautiful people on an hourly basis but Galahad feels like there’s more to this feeling than just that.

“ _Take my hand… take my whole life too –”_

It’s likely that it’s not who Galahad expects, there are two other men at the table and he is the manager this establishment, the way he’s behaving isn’t professional at all and if Marco were here – but what if it is _him –_

“ _For I can’t help…”_

Galahad turns, stomach fluttering like there’s a million hummingbirds trapped inside and on the other side of the bar, he’s waiting for him.

“ _… f_ _alling in love with you._ ”

His eyes are even more stunning up close; azure lakes shimmering crystalline under sunlight, Galahad thinks as he makes his way over to the blond. He’s moving unbelievably slow, as if his feet were striding across fragile clouds.

“Hey,” he says with a smile that’s barely there, but Galahad sees the way the corner of his mouth curls enough to make his heart stall out on a beat.

“ _Like a river flows… surely to the sea…_ ”

“I’m from that table over there –” He demonstrates by jabbing a thumb over his shoulder. “And we just wanted to thank you for the drinks but uh –” He looks down at the bar and huffs a laugh and Galahad’s resolve shatters.

“Ginger is not available – so she wants to politely decline any more drinks to the table – she’s just too shy to say anything herself.”

“ _Darling so it goes…_ ”

He seems like he’s nervous too, he keeps tapping his fingers on the bar top as he speaks, he’s hesitant to look at Galahad directly and he keeps shifting his weight from one foot to the other. He looks young, maybe early twenties and at least a good ten years younger than Galahad himself and when the tips of his ears turn red and colour splashes the smooth pale of his skin, he looks even younger.

Galahad opens his mouth to speak but no sound comes out and he’s forced to snap it shut. He can see why they would think he was after the woman – in all likelihood he probably would be. Somewhere in the back of his mind he hears Marco telling him to stop hitting on all female patrons, that he needs to settle down.

“ _Some things are meant to be…_ ”

“Alex, you’re not helping.”

“Sorry?”

Galahad blinks back into the now, the man is still standing on the other side of the bar. He looks puzzled, eyebrows raised in expectancy and mouth quirked to the side and Galahad realises that he’s just thought out loud. His face flares with heat and he clears his throat with an unnecessary cough before speaking.

“Ah, no – my apologies. I didn’t mean to make your friend uncomfortable,” he offers,  "I’m the owner and I like to offer new customers a warm welcome. Shame though, about your friend. She’s a real beauty.“ Except Galahad’s not talking about the woman when he says this.

The man grins and Galahad’s heart stops; the other slaps his palm down on the bar top with sparked enthusiasm. "Well – not all is lost, manager! How about you and I drink to good music and unavailable women?”

Galahad smiles easy, his blood so warm that everything feels like it’s melting. He grabs the bourbon off the shelf and two shot glasses from under the bar. “That’s something definitely worth drinking to.”

“ _For I can’t help… falling in love with you._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alex’s [song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5V430M59Yn8)


End file.
